(Page 1 of 2) Far Away Holiday by Jim Washburn
 (2 ratings)
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SUMMARY: December flash fiction contest. Quiet ruled her days and nights. Although to be perfectly accurate the ship is filled with sounds; gurgling of the recyclers, circulating air, humming machines, beeping computer displays, echoing footsteps and more. Although present they have long since faded from her attention unless a conscious effort is made to really listen.
The glamour of being part of the first human mission to Titan has since turned to days of routine work and filling time between tasks. With the others in hibernation she has little to do but wait until the four month shift is up, revive her relief then enter hibernation in turn. That event is still over nine weeks away, and feels like longer.
"Well enough of that thinking, get to work." She said aloud, a habit that was becoming more common as the days inch by.
Following the SOP rules she quickly determines that; there are no equipment problems, the ship is perfectly positioned, telemetry streams Earthward, her companions are sleeping peacefully and so on. Just to liven things up she also verifies that there are no dinosaur killing asteroids headed her way, the sun has not gone nova, extraterrestrials are not attempting to board and, sadly, there are no new video messages from her family.
Now she would normally jog around the centrifuge hallway for an hour plus, but that has no appeal at the moment. After sitting in the command chair staring at the Viewscreen showing unmoving stars for many minutes she gets up with a sigh and starts her jog anyway.
Jog done, shower taken, dinner eaten, the ship clock pronounces it early evening, 7:30 PM if she were back at home. Without knowing why she turns back to the chronometer and notices the date: December 24th, 2031.
"Well I'll be damned, its Christmas Eve!"
While the time of day dictates what she works on, the date has ceased to be relevant. Suddenly it was more than relevant, it was heartening with childhood memories and disheartening because of her unalterable loneliness.
A wild thought crosses her mind about reviving her crewmates to have a holiday party tomorrow but is quickly discarded as crazy, selfish and potentially dangerous to everyone, not to mention fatal to her career.
In this mixed mood she spends the next few hours playing with the computer graphics system and once satisfied the Viewscreen's stars are replaced by a Christmas tree with decorations, blinking lights and presents beneath it.
"Ok, so I am not a real artist, sue me." She says to the image, which is actually a fairly nice simulation for an amateur. With a couple additional touches she adds some background, a window with snow and a partial fireplace complete with stockings.
The chronometer now shows 11:30 PM, she is actually tired for once.
"I had better get to sleep or Santa Claus won't come." She laughs while placing the ship in low power mode. On a whim she leaves the graphic display on and running casting colorful light and shadow patterns across the darkened Bridge.
In her cabin she rests comfortably then unexpectedly drifts off to sleep quickly after weeks of having trouble.
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